Chapter 98
Huan Zheng, who just a second ago was lying weakly with half-open eyes, suddenly mustered the remnants of strength he did not even know where it came from—perhaps from anger, perhaps from disbelief, perhaps from the instinct of a man who had been betrayed by the people he loved most and could not accept the reality that everything he had built for decades was nothing but an illusion—and shouted.
His voice was no longer faltering, no longer weak, but loud and resounding.
Like thunder striking across a sky that never rains.
Like an earthquake shaking the very foundations of a world once thought unshakable.
Like someone screaming at the edge of a cliff because he refuses to fall alone.
"YOU'RE LYING, The Silent One!" he roared, his half-open eyes now wide, revealing a fury he had never shown to anyone.
Not to The Singer who embraced him every night.
Not to Ling Xu who had died eleven times for him.
Not even to his cruelest enemies.
Because this anger was not born of hatred or vengeance, but of pain.
A pain so deep, so absolute, so devastating that he could no longer hide it behind the mask of laziness he had worn so comfortably like a blanket on a cold night.
"Huan Mei wouldn't—there's no way they would—THAT'S FAKE NEWS! YOU'RE LYING! YOU—"
But before he could finish his sentence, before his harsh, rage-filled words could echo through the smoking ruins of that man-made hell, Pendiam laughed for the fourth time.
A laugh even louder than his previous three.
A laugh that made the remaining walls tremble like frightened leaves.
A laugh that made the ground beneath their feet shake as if something were trying to claw its way out from the deepest belly of the earth.
A laugh that made Ling Xu's ears ring and his empty eyes throb in pain because its frequency was too high for ordinary human senses to endure.
"You say I'm lying, The Lazy One? You think I intend to deliver false news?" Pendiam said after his laughter began to subside five seconds later—five seconds that felt like five centuries for Huan Zheng, who was still trying to calm the storm of rage in his chest.
Five seconds that felt like five deaths for Ling Xu, who still held Huan Zheng tightly, afraid the man would do something reckless.
Five seconds that felt like five new wounds for The Singer, who still lay unconscious in the corner of the ruins, yet groaned louder because The Silent One's laughter pierced even the darkest parts of his dreams.
"Very well, if you don't believe me, let me show you the proof. Let me show you, with your own eyes, what truly happened behind your back during the decades you were busy protecting those who were actually planning your death."
Pendiam raised both hands into the air, and from the tips of his pale, slender fingers, light began to emerge.
Not a golden light like when he summoned The Singer's physical nature.
Not a grayish-green light like the Cancer plague dwelling within Ling Xu.
But a light made of stars.
Of cosmic dust that had died billions of years ago.
Of remnants of supernova explosions still drifting between the cracks of reality.
And that light moved, spun, formed patterns, formed images, formed a reconstruction of life so real, so detailed, so vivid that for a moment Huan Zheng forgot that what he was seeing was only an illusion.
That what he was witnessing was merely a recording of the past he could never change, even if he tore apart time and space with his terrifying adaptation.
Within that reconstruction, there was Huan Mei—his wife, whom he had loved for decades, whom he greeted every morning with a lazy smile before going to work, whom he returned to every night carrying gifts from across the universe.
She sat in a grand room lit by dim, flickering candlelight, surrounded by Pendiam and several high-ranking figures of humanity whose faces were not unfamiliar to Huan Zheng.
Because they were people he had once saved.
People he had once protected.
People he had once considered comrades in the Harmony Conflict.
"I can't take it anymore, The Silent One," said Huan Mei in that reconstruction, her voice no longer soft like when she woke Huan Zheng each morning with a cup of warm tea and a slice of toast.
But cold.
Firm.
Filled with hatred she had hidden behind her sweet smile for decades.
"I can't stand living under the shadow of a husband who never comes home on time, who never pays attention to his children, who never says that he loves us. I want to be free. I want to live without him. Help me, The Silent One. Remove him from my life, and I will do anything you ask."
And The Silent One, with the same satisfied smile he now showed before Huan Zheng, nodded.
A single nod that felt like a death sentence.
A single nod that changed Huan Zheng's life forever.
A single nod that made Huan Zheng—still watching the reconstruction with wide-open eyes, his hand gripping Ling Xu's so tightly that his knuckles turned white—feel something shatter inside his chest.
Something he could not repair.
Could not replace.
Could not forget.
Like a mirror falling onto a marble floor and breaking into a thousand pieces that could never be put back together, no matter how long he tried.
"Very well, Huan Mei. I will help you. But remember, nothing in this world is free. You must pay the price, in a way that I will determine later."
Not stopping there, Pendiam moved his fingers again, and the reconstruction shifted scenes, revealing two young women around twenty years old—Huan Shu and Huan Yan, Huan Zheng's beloved daughters.
The daughters he once carried when they were still infants.
The daughters he once taught to walk when they could barely stand.
The daughters he once protected with his life when danger lurked beyond the palace walls.
Now they sat in the courtroom of the Supreme Court of Humanity, dressed in formal black attire, their faces pale but their eyes sharp, their voices steady as they gave false testimony upon a sacred scripture said to be unbreakable by anyone.
"Our father, Huan Zheng, is a cruel man," said Huan Shu, her voice flat and hollow, like someone reading a grocery list in a marketplace.
Without emotion.
Without regret.
Without the slightest hint of guilt, even though she knew her words would send her own father to the gallows.
"Every day, he is always angry for no reason. He often threatens to twist our heads off if we dare to resist. He intends to kill us, The Silent One—not just once, but many times, whenever he feels stressed after being scolded by our beloved mother, Huan Mei. We can no longer endure living in fear. We beg you, save us. Punish our father with the harshest sentence, so that he can never harm anyone again."
And Huan Yan, who sat beside her sister, nodded in agreement, adding with a voice deliberately made to tremble for dramatic effect.
To be continued…